With a Little Help from My Friends

“You are a lonely boy,” the ironically named Violet told me. Her wig was sitting to the left of one of her long, slim legs. She had bruises up her thighs, though she didn’t seem to care that they were clearly visible underneath her thin hose.

Her actual hair was lovely. It was long, and dark and wavy, and trailed down the length of her body in curled snarls. It was much better than that fake headpiece she wore, but she said it was much better that way – apparently a lot of guys got off of that.

“And you are not-so-lonely,” I tell her in response.

Violet shrugs, and from somewhere on her scant outfit, she pulls out a lone cigarette, places it between her lips and lights up. She takes a long drag and shrugs again. “Who says I’m not?” She asks, herself more than me.

I too, shrug in response. “Well, then... we are all lonely.”

Remembering herself, she places her hand on my leg, letting it trail slowly up. I lift my face to look in her eyes. They are hollow, devoid of all emotion. Violet had crawled into herself and had gone into auto-pilot to do the deed – this is what she was here for. I pluck her hand from my leg and place it on her own. She shakes her head, pulled out of her stupor, and stares at me. I wonder how she could stand to do this for a living, day in and day out – well, night in, night out in her case, I guess. Her face had gone rigid, as if I had thrown ice cold water onto her face.

“You don’t want me to?” Her voice is tight with restraint. It is no longer as sweet as it was, now that it was just the two of us in my empty home.

“Not now,” I tell her, in my most kindest voice I could muster.

She swallowed that. It was hard for her to handle rejection, that much I could tell, but she seemed to allow it. After a moment, she sobered up, and resumed sucking down her cigarette.

“I thought you didn’t want to be lonely,” She confessed. “I thought that is what I am for.”

I shrug again. “In a way, you are.”

She nods sombrely, and we sit in silence. When she finishes her cigarette, she tugs at my arm and pulls down the sleeve to reveal my wrist. My watch dangles loosely off my thin arm.

“Time’s up, lover-boy,” She smiles.

I pat my pockets and slip out a couple bills into her awaiting hand. Once the transaction is over, her lips brush softly over mine, and she smiles again.

“Don’t be a stranger,” She told me, and then she left.

I wanted to call Spencer the moment she left. I didn’t know what I’d tell him, but I could imagine it.

I met a woman today...
A woman?
Yes, a real woman, with curves and the works. I paid her to keep me company.
Oh Lord. Ryan...you’ve hit a new low.
I think she’s beautiful.
I hope you didn’t catch anything.
And she doesn’t know who I am.
You should get that shit checked out in the morning dude, unless you want your dick to fall off, or some shit.
How is the cabin?
Are you even listening to me?!
I didn’t call you just so I could listen to myself speak. Of course I am.
Why is it not surprising that I know you wish you could? Call me back when you’re not a selfish prick.

Yes. It was safe to say that not calling Spencer was the right thing to do. I needed to get my shit together, so that I could at least tell him that I was doing well without him.

Tomorrow, I told myself. And I went to sleep again, this time with a much lighter heart.

* * *

By next afternoon, I had ordered all the furnishings for my house, and by the next afternoon after that, I would have a semi-decent home. There were a few guys lurking around for a picture, and I laughed, because who would want a picture of me doing some furniture shopping? Hardly celebrity gossip, I think. I’m hardly a celebrity at all. I’m like a clown – one with a bigger pay check, I guess, but one nonetheless. I entertained people’s kids, I even wore makeup whilst doing so.

God, I thought I was so cool.

Now that I’m actually fixed to one spot, and now that I am resuming normalcy, I realise how fucking stupid I’ve been. I am a joke, and I let myself think otherwise. I thought the world revolved around me – little had I known that the world couldn’t give a fuck about Ryan Ross.

I picked up my phone, ready to make amends of my life, and sent out a mass text to the other three.

WE NEED NEW MATERIAL. SOON?

Satisfied with that, I picked out a pack of Doritos from my newly stocked pantry, and sat myself down in my still empty room. Somehow, knowing that the delivery would come sometime tomorrow, the house didn’t seem at all that empty anymore. I was happy with that, and I didn’t even mind that I was sitting on the floor like a beggar, eating my ‘dinner’.

It was going to be dark soon, and normally at this time of night, I’d be getting ready to go on stage. I’d probably be sitting with Spencer and Jon and Brendon in the dressing room drinking a beer. Jon would probably make a joke at the food platter, and how the baloney and the cheese didn’t match the bread, just like on ‘This is Spinal Tap’. We’d probably tell him to shut the fuck up, and that it had stopped being funny fifteen venues back. But he’d ignore us, and probably plan on doing the joke again the next night. Brendon would be quietly humming to himself, and Spencer would be all in a world of his own, up until we nudge him from his state of comatose to tell him it’s me to go on.

I missed it, I missed those assholes. As much as we hated each other, we were all we had. It was all we knew, and those three faces were the only constant thing about life on tour. I knew they’d be there, every night, surrounding me as the lights bore down on all of us.

‘You’re just lonely,’ I tell myself, and I pick myself from the ground and brush the Dorito crumbs from my clothes. I sighed. There wasn’t much to do, and the night held so many possibilities. ‘No point in wasting it, then,’ I tell myself out loud, as I catch my reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

I smile a pathetic smile, and I wonder what trouble I’ll get up to tonight.